


Tangled Sheets

by rose_prose



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Cuties, Domestic Fluff, Drabble, Early Mornings, Fluff, Lazy Mornings, Love, M/M, Sleeping Together, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, height difference got me like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 07:23:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3601323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rose_prose/pseuds/rose_prose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The bed was one of the first things they'd disagreed on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tangled Sheets

**Author's Note:**

> The OVA really just reinforced my love for these two.

The bed was one of the first things they'd disagreed on. 

Yaku preferred minimalism: one blanket, one pillow, clean sheets every two weeks. 

Lev preferred hedonism: all the pillows, all the blankets, mismatched sheets. 

For character, he said. 

Where Yaku liked a softer mattress, Lev needed a firm one because his back was prone to hurt without sufficient support. Where Lev had wanted a bigger mattress size (to accommodate his own bigger body size), Yaku had argued for a smaller one to match the size of their apartment and their budget. 

Sure, they had futons and the like, but for their first apartment together, they had at least agreed on wanting an actual bed, one they bought with their own money on their own time. Together. 

By the end of an exhausting, arguably traumatic experience, they’d wrestled a full size mattress into their modest apartment, dragged it down the hall, and squeezed it into the cramped space of their bedroom. After laying it down and surveying their work, Yaku had asked Lev where the bed frame was, or if it would be delivered later. 

 

 

“…Shit.”

Lev's eyes had widened, his mouth agape in disbelief as he processed his mistake. He’d whined miserably, grabbed fistfuls of his hair, spluttered obscenities as he’d grown increasingly closer to maybe, possibly crying. 

Yaku just blinked, completely calm. That long with Lev, and he expected nothing less. He’d hefted a sigh, walked toward his towering, distraught boyfriend and tugged the hem of his shirt tersely until Lev bent down. Yaku ran his fingers consolingly over the massive hands tangled in fair hair, easing them from their death grip. 

Yaku had looked Lev straight in the eye and said that if he saw one tear, over a mattress, Lev could sleep on the floor. Lev sniffled, pitifully, bemoaning the fact that he’d wanted to get at least one thing right for their new place. Yaku had smiled fondly; it was all he could really do, before placing a small kiss to Lev’s forehead. 

That day seemed so long ago, as Yaku sat perched on the edge of their bed, taking in the disaster made excusable by the dark of early morning hours. They never did get a bed frame. Over the course of 8 months, though, Lev had amassed 11 pillows, somehow lost or mixed up 5 pairs of sheets, and collected 7 separate blankets, all of which he insisted on using. In the night he’d kick off 3 or 4. 

It pained Yaku, the disarray the bed had descended into. For the organized person he was, it was almost a crime. Never made, the sheets left strewn and tangled in the duvet, pillows toppling over onto the floor. 

But, there were so many times that made it tolerable, that made Yaku treasure their bed more than anything else they owned.

Soft noises came from the side of the bed by the window, a stray arm and foot peeking out from under lumps of fabric that rose and fell steadily. He reached over and tenderly brushed aside bedraggled hair. 

Yaku loved the way Lev slept. The way his insanely long legs and gangly arms would get caught in the sheets. The way his face betrayed his age despite his height, peaceful and vulnerable like a child's. The way his mouth fell slightly open, pink lips parted by light puffs of air. 

On lazy mornings, Yaku would watch as bashful rays of sunlight peeked through dark curtains. 

No matter how many mornings he spent with Lev, he would always be mesmerized by how stunning the boy was. If a strip of sunlight fell on Lev’s closed eyelids, he'd mumble crossly, his delicate eyebrows drawing together as he would burrow further into their bed. Not often did Lev wake up first, leaving Yaku all the time to stare and, maybe, fall more in love than he realized. 

Some mornings they'd be shirtless, the sun illuminating Lev’s exposed milky skin. Yaku would thread his fingers in Lev’s silvery blonde hair, carding through the strands softly, rhythmically. 

He'd feel Lev's warm breath fan over his chest as the younger boy curled into Yaku's side, tracing a long finger over Yaku’s pronounced collarbone and pulling him closer. Their lips would collide lazily, like all things in the early morning, no urgency. 

It would intoxicate Yaku, the sensation of Lev’s soft lips, just his presence everywhere at once. The sheets smelled like him, like Lev and Lev’s cologne, no matter how many times they were washed. Like detergent and Lev and it sent Yaku’s head spinning. 

He'd kiss Lev harder, nudging his shoulder until he lay back flat on the mattress. He would straddle Lev’s hips, lips moving, never separating. Lev’s hands would find their favorite spot, Yaku’s hips, his thumbs caressing the dips in muscle. There might be some urgency then. 

Urgency in the way Yaku would roll his hips down, meet Lev’s upward thrust halfway, gasping into his pretty mouth. Urgency in the way Lev would pull Yaku into him as he moaned out weakly. Urgency in the way they held each other, braced skin against skin, hitting that high together, crying out against the calm morning. Less urgency as they came back down, less urgency as they kissed lazily, small shared smiles and breathless laughs, until they were back to no urgency at all. 

On hurried mornings, Yaku would unceremoniously thump Lev with a pillow (or his fist) in attempts to wake him up in time for his classes. Lev was the heaviest sleeper he’d ever met, even more so than Kuroo, which was a feat in and of itself. Not phone alarms, not fire alarms, not even threats of violence would wake Lev up.

The way he would mumble, "Mmm…ten more minutes, Morisuke..." in a thick, sleep laced voice made Yaku’s heart skip a beat, breath catch in his throat. He was so, so in love with Lev. Yaku would nudge him affectionately, let him sleep in fifteen extra minutes, and ardently deny the fact later if it came up. 

On some nights, Yaku would get caught up in the comfort of it all, the feel of sheets on his skin, the nearness of Lev, the fact that they were happy and comfortable and together. It was on those nights that Yaku would be prone to say embarrassing, heartfelt things. He’d mumble it offhandedly, catch Lev unaware and be subjected to his boyfriend’s wide-eyed, adoring gaze. 

His blush and his words would be lost in the pillowcase he mashed over his head. Lev would carefully pry said pillow out of Yaku’s iron grip, smiling fondly at the persistent flush creeping up Yaku’s cheeks. He would stroke the sides of Yaku’s face with the pads of his thumbs, and smile radiantly as he pulled Yaku’s lips up to his. 

When they were done, Lev would pull up the crumpled sheets to cover their bodies, lest they get cold in the middle of the night. He would pull Yaku close, sink down into the mattress, into their mountain of pillows, murmuring sweet nothings into Yaku’s ear as they drifted to sleep. 

Yaku almost always fell asleep first, meaning Lev could stare at Yaku, tell him his sincerest feelings, dote on him with all the compliments and sentiments that would embarrass an awake Yaku to no end.

His heart would swell with affection when Yaku would talk in his sleep, a habit he adamantly denied. His words were laced with incoherent babblings of Lev and their life and school and the cat in the complex and the fact that they had too many pillows. He would snuggle further into the place, the home between Lev’s limbs, lost in his own world. 

He was always so warm, like a tiny furnace, which was funny, Lev thought, because it was indicative of how warm Yaku’s heart really was, how all of him was warm and nurturing and amazing. 

Lev loved the way Yaku slept, small frame holding tightly to a pillow or Lev himself. He was the one who'd refused unnecessary pillows, yet he was the one who inevitably ended up latching onto one when they went to sleep, squeezing it close. 

Spooning was one of Lev’s favorite things; it was perfect, the way they would fit together. Sometimes Yaku would spoon Lev, his arms barely wrapping around Lev’s waist, his nose nestling against the knobs of Lev’s spine. Most of the time, the night found Yaku cuddling a pillow and Lev holding fast to Yaku. 

Yaku was so mature, ahead of Lev in what seemed like endless ways. 

Nuzzling his nose into Yaku’s messy hair, placing feather light kisses at the nape of his neck, being able to give Yaku small tokens of his affection meant the world to Lev. 

Yaku knew, he understood that, and he was willing (after much persuasion) to make the concession. In truth, he liked knowing Lev wanted to do what he could to make Yaku feel special, feel cared for. It was getting better, but majority of the time it was Yaku looking after Lev. Having Lev’s solid form behind him most nights made Yaku happier than he'd ever admit. 

Theirs wasn’t a give and take kind of love. It was a give and give and keep giving, to each other, to what they wanted for the future. The kind of love that was comfortable and intimate, like the breeze at dawn blowing through their curtains. 

Today was a particularly chilly Sunday morning, where Yaku had it in his heart to let Lev continue sleeping as he stood carefully and made his way out of their bedroom. While he prepared their morning coffee, he noticed a new addition to the kitchen. He felt his eye twitch in irritation, slamming the bag of grounds on the counter before striding back to the bedroom, armed with every intention to kick his boyfriend’s ass. 

The bed was the first thing they’d disagreed on, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. 

There was no way in hell he was letting Lev keep a stool, labeled "Yaku-San", in their kitchen.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
